


You're My Only Home

by senbazuru



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Inappropriate use of food?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2422175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senbazuru/pseuds/senbazuru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's my version of the ubiquitous College!Canon fic. Heaps of domestic fluff topped with a healthy dollop of MakoHaru smut. Nom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My Only Home

**Author's Note:**

> So I had to drop everything I was writing to get this out of my brain - this ridiculously saccharine concept just wouldn't let me be, it stalked me like some yaoi starved tiger with one serious MakoHaru addiction. The title is borrowed from The Magnetic Fields' song of the same name. Enjoy. Now, where was I...

 

 

I will stay if you let me stay

And I'll go if you let me go

But I won't go far away

Because you're my only home.

And I will hide what you want hidden

And I'll roam if you say roam

But I'd just as soon you didn't

Because you're my only home.

 

 

 

Haru's Tokyo apartment was a little larger than was strictly necessary for a first year student. Even after his unexpected breakdown at regionals there were still an impressive amount of scouts all shamelessly vying for his patronage, really he could've chosen anywhere in the country and named his terms at that. It was gratifying to know that the rest of the world was now finally catching on to Haru's beauty and talent. Makoto had always known.

He was therefore awarded a rather exceptional scholarship, and in addition to his university waving the vast majority of tuition fees they also provided him with his unusually decent living accommodation to sweeten the deal. It was partly amusing but also just a little unnerving as to how shrewd Haru could be at times, because he was by no means as naive and apathetic as he often pretended to be. He'd told Makoto, albeit not whilst looking directly at his face, that he considered Tokyo as his only viable option, and although that information had instantly sent a thrill of excited warmth rippling up from his stomach to burst like a firework in his chest, Makoto had subsequently realised that he probably hadn't been quite so emphatically clear with his prospective universities, and particularly not with the one he knew he'd end up attending. Yes, Haru could definitely be sly when he wanted.

Makoto on the other hand was being funded soley by his parents, and had therefore refused to rent anywhere that wasn't the very basic of minimum requirements or that seemed overpriced in any way shape or form, in a few years they'd most likely be going through all this again with the twins after all. His place wasn't bad by any standards, it was clean and his neighbours seemed nice enough, even if they did keep themselves to themselves. It was kind of funny though, Makoto didn't want to admit it but he was perhaps a little large for his tiny studio. Add that to the fact that he'd never quite outgrown that clumsy accident prone stage usually confined to early adolescence, and he really had to concede that it must be an amusing sight to see him bumble around his not quite six tatami room. He could tell that Haru found it entertaining, even if he'd never actually said as much. Conversely, Haru's place was relatively large and although he'd been used to having an entire house all to himself back in Iwatobi, he didn't physically use as much space as Makoto and so the disparity in their circumstances seemed somewhat ironic.

Consequently Makoto spent a lot of his free time over at Haru's when their schedules allowed. They'd even had spare keys cut for each other, because although in reality they were only a couple of subway stops apart, they both felt a strong need to retain that same open door policy they'd had with each other their entire lives. It was reassuring in the dauntingly large city that they were both there for one another, whatever time of night or for whatever seemingly innocuous reason. Although actually they needn't have bothered with Haru's key, as he Infuriatingly persisted in leaving his door unlocked most of the time, no matter how much Makoto berated him about it when his protective instinct kicked in. Maybe it was a result of growing up in such a friendly small town, and it was true that Haru's building was a little more respectable than most, but nonetheless the fact remained; they weren't in Iwatobi anymore. Haru would give a placating nod or dismissive wave, say he got it and that he'd try to remember to turn the latch from then on, but inevitably after ringing the bell once or twice Makoto found he could still pull the door open and enter the apartment before calling his exasperated greeting out into the quiet space inside.

Obviously Makoto wasn't able to go round every morning like he used to, and in some respects it was no longer so imperative that he did, Haru would be heading straight to training in an Olympic sized pool as opposed to sitting through hours worth of dry high school classes after all. But when he could Makoto liked to take the minor detour over to Haru's place, to replay the familiar little scene of helping his boyfriend out of the bath and it meaning they could have a quiet breakfast together before walking to the station round the corner.

University was hard going, they were only barely two months in to their respective courses but it already felt more like a lifetime since they spent their last summer at home. Although of course Makoto had felt a little homesick to begin with, he missed his family and friends and in some respects he also missed their quiet predictable life by the sea. But he had Haru there with him, and the knowledge alone provided him with the strength to keep going, he didn't like to think about what it mightve been like if Haru hadn't decided to join him. Tokyo was not without its benefits of course, it was exciting and cosmopolitan, and the opportunities available to them both seemed endless and wonderfully varied. It also had the advantage of being slightly anonymous, whether it was the fact that they felt a little more established in their relationship or that it was simply part of the 'living away from home' mentality, but it felt easier to be together without being too self conscious of what other people thought. Naturally they'd felt curious enough to check out the bars in Shinjuku, but obviously having never been part of the scene before it had turned out to be more of a novelty experience, and after some sleazy old guy tried to hit on Haru they'd mutually decided to call it a night. Makoto had not been too pleased at the time, and perhaps it was a little unfair but after he'd had a chance to calm down, the memory of his boyfriend's wide confused eyes followed by that trademark pout and scowl combination still made him giggle to himself whenever he thought back on it.

With that fond smile still playing on his lips he hitched his bag, heavy with numerous bulky textbooks further up his broad shoulder and switched the arm he was using to hold onto the overhead rail in the busy subway carriage. His Sports Science class had only just finished and it was getting dangerously close to one of the many rush hour periods he usually tried his best to avoid. If for whatever reason his lectures finished early Makoto would often take a leisurely walk home through one or more of the parks that were scattered across the district. And while autumn was only just beginning to yield to winter's chilly advance, he was already looking forward to brining Haru along to one of those spots for Hanami, where they'd sit under the Sakura trees together, just the two of them amongst the crowds. On the other hand, when his classes occasionally ran over like today he would usually wait it out in the library, until the transport system wasn't so overloaded with salarymen and school kids on their way home from arcades and raucous karaoke sessions, or whatever it was that kids did around here. Today was different though, Haru was back from his trip.

Although the nature of Makoto's course guaranteed he'd be consistently mentally bombarded with countless facts and new information, Haru's training was just as intense, as not only did his coach push him physically but he was also expected to study the theory behind the techniques he put into practice. As could be expected he'd stubbornly grumbled to begin with, but then he'd begrudgingly accepted that there may actually be a point to it all once he began to see tangible improvements. Whilst Makoto had been studying for a midterm that he'd only just taken the day before, and incidentally thought he might've done rather well on, Haru had been away at a two week long training camp in Osaka, testing himself against the elite swimmers from several other universities. Osaka was hardly Australia, it was only a little over two hours away by Shinkansen after all, but Makoto definitely felt a reassuring warmth settle back into his chest knowing Haru had returned and they were now in the same city again. He'd wanted to go pick him up from the station, but he'd been stuck in seminars and lectures all day so Haru had made his own way home. In response to his dramatic and pained apology Haru had just bluntly told him that there was no need in any case, before his voice had softened and he'd said quietly down the phone that he understood and that Makoto should work hard.

Makoto's cheekbones heated slightly as he daydreamed, it seemed that alongside finding his dream Haru had also found a greater confidence in expressing his own emotions. He was still the same no-nonsense guy he'd always been, but now there was a visible warmth to his personality, a palpable lightness that Makoto had needed to use his skills to interpret before. Haru had never been one to waste words, but now it felt like it was more through choice than necessity. In addition he was definitely more tactile than he used to be, initiating a lot more physical contact rather than simply relying on Makoto's instinct to know when to get closer, and indeed when these occurrences happened with increasing frequency Makoto had been unable to keep the stupid grin from betraying his face. Since the move Haru just seemed happier in his skin, and that was all Makoto had ever wanted.

Suddenly the familiar synthesised jingle brought him back down to reality with an abrupt jolt of recognition, apparently the carriage had been stationary for some moments now and Makoto realised only just in time that he'd finally arrived at his stop. Luckily he wasn't too far away from an exit, and he just about managed to squeeze his unwieldy frame through the tangled mass of commuters in order to dart out onto the empty platform before the automatic doors had clamped shut. He brushed down his rumpled plaid shirt before breathing a sigh of relief that scattered his fringe as he made his way above ground, it would definitely have been no good if he'd missed his station today.

Haru had probably been home for several hours by now, hopefully he'd unpacked his luggage and sorted out his laundry already, but as Makoto eagerly rounded the corner and crossed the quiet street to the entrance of his boyfriend's building, for some reason he really doubted it. He rang the bell but waited less than a minute before simultaneously reaching for his keys and trying the door handle. Needles to say it was the latter of the three options that gained him entry and he inwardly sighed, shaking his head in defeat.

"Haru-chan," he shouted as he took off his shoes and set down his bag, his boyfriend was most likely in the bath so he'd probably have to repeat himself anyway, "what have I told you about leaving the door-" once he'd turned round and taken a step up from the genkan, he cut himself off as he realised that Haru was in fact standing only a few feet away from him, eyebrow raised and ladle in hand.

"..." Haru was the only person he'd ever known who could _think_ a smirk and still get his point across.

"Ah, Haru-chan! Um, where you coming to let me in?" he deflected his embarrassment with a sheepish smile, "its just that you never normally answer... I thought you might be in the bath..."

"I just came back from two weeks of solid swimming, I think I'll be alright for another couple of hours," an easy smile crept onto Haru's face as he crossed the short distance to lean up for a kiss, Makoto laughed softly as he slid his arms around his waist and sweetly brought their lips together. Even so, he couldn't help the idle thought in the back of his mind that suggested Haru was probably only half joking. He broke the kiss as they both winced in unison, looking between them at the ladle that Haru still held in the hand pressed against his boyfriend's chest, the intrusive metal bowl digging into their stomachs as Makoto hugged a little too enthusiastically. "I'm making dinner." the shorter of the two stated, setting his feet flat on the floor and then pivoting around in order to leisurely return to the kitchenette.

Makoto licked his lips subconsciously as he watched his retreating back, Haru was wearing a casual combination of that old blue apron he'd brought from home layered over the top of a pair of light grey track pants. Makoto had the sneaking suspicion that they in fact belonged to him, if the way in which they slung a little too low on his hips and pooled slightly around his ankles was anything to go by. He followed him over to the stove, his fingers itching to brush at the pale patch of skin that was visible below the apron strings tied high over his waist.

"I should be the one cooking for you," he nuzzled into his ear as his fingertips found their destination and he proceeded to widen their target area, his hands snaking over his bare jutting hips to cross firmly at his front. Haru audibly snorted at the mere suggestion that Makoto was capable of producing a meal fit for human consumption, and the affronted party retaliated with a well timed bite to his earlobe. "Yeah yeah..." He said against his neck with mock sarcasm, "you know what I mean. You must be tired, how was your trip?" and Makoto straightened slightly as Haru effortlessly tossed a mixture of leafy vegetables in a frying pan. His diet seemed to be in reverse correlation to his own, whilst Makoto would be rather ashamed to admit just how much he relied on the 24hr convenience store at the end of his street, Haru's already impressive culinary skills only seemed to be improving, the process no doubt appealing to his need for creativity outside of a punishing athletic regime.

"Nn, it was good," his spare hand coming up to rest over Makoto's encircling arm in silent appreciation, whilst his other continued to stir the contents of several different pans with the large pair of cooking chopsticks that had once belonged to his grandmother. "Swam a lot. Obviously. But it was useful to test myself." And he pinched a piece of chicken between the antique utensil, lifting it up to his shoulder and feeding Makoto without looking behind him, "Food was awful though".

"Mmmm, delicious!" He cooed before releasing his hold and making his way over to the low table in the living room, clearing its burden of training manuals and general paperwork to make space on its dark wood surface for their meal. "Ah, that explains all the dishes you've made. It must've been boring to have to eat the same kinds of food all the time..." Makoto had already begun studying the importance of nutrition for training athletes, and the sample menus he'd seen were definitely more concerned with calorie consumption and muscle ratio than actual taste or variety.

"I suppose," Haru said hesitantly in a way that drew Makoto's attention, "but I also wanted to make it special... Because I missed Makoto" he all but mumbled the last part, the tips of his ears glowing red as he busied himself decanting food into serving dishes, conveniently keeping his back turned in the process.

"H-haru..." Makoto whispered as a wide smile slid onto his face. Cute.

"Sit down, dinner's ready." Haru requested with a little more strength returning to his voice, flicking a glance over at Makoto who was still hovering over a pile of books, delighted shock evident in his expression. As Makoto took his seat the amateur chef purposefully ignored the warm admiring stare that was intently trained on him as he filled the table with a multitude of platters and bowls, and by the time he'd finished there was barely enough room for their own dinner plates amid the well presented feast. Amongst the impressive spread there were two small bowls of white miso soup, with a few more scattered around each containing plain rice or pickled vegetables, a side dish of the silky green komatsuna leaves panfried in aromatic garlic and sesame oil, and a little boat-shaped platter laden with crispy kabocha fritters and delicate gyoza. In addition there was also a large serving of the delicious yakitori that Makoto had already been treated to, and he noted with affection that Haru had made a bigger portion because he'd known it was his favourite, the large bowl towering over the slightly more modest but equally vital plate of mackerel.

"Itadakimasu" Makoto smiled tenderly across the table, tilting his head and crinkling his adoring green eyes as Haru picked up his chopsticks. Sometimes the love he felt for Haru was overwhelming, suddenly hitting him hard in the gut and tearing through his body until he found it difficult to breathe. But other times, times like this, it seemed to gently creep up on him, pouring hot sweet ripples out from his chest and radiating with aching intensity to reach his very extremities. Yes, sometimes he loved him so much that it hurt.

As they ate they chatted about the training camp in Osaka and Makoto's recently completed midterms, he tried and failed to keep his eyes from studying his boyfriend's beautiful face and pale skin, his dainty table manners that seemed to contrast so endearingly with his otherwise straightforward personality. He could look at him forever and it wouldn't be enough. On numerous occasions the subject of his boundless devotion had therefore been compelled to kick him under the table or clear his throat pointedly when he'd noticed Makoto had stopped eating, his obvious sessions of Haru-worship evidently blotting out his remaining faculties and motor functions in one fell swoop. But a subtle smile had ghosted across Haru's lips each time Makoto had regained his focus, perpetuating his giddy cycle of reverie all over again.

"You don't have to finish it." Haru smirked as he rose from the table, Makoto having frozen with the pair of empty chopsticks pressed to his lips, distracted once again by the delicate movement of Haru's slim wrist as he picked through the last of his mackerel. He was about to protest when Haru interjected with one of Makoto's top ten favourite phrases, "I'll box it up and you can take it back with you". He knew that Haru was well aware of his unhealthy reliance on convenience food, that he'd clocked the embarrassing flash of recognition he'd received from the old man who worked behind the counter at Lawson's. Indeed he'd probably intentionally prepared too much food, it was cute how sneaky he was when taking care of him. So in acquiescence Makoto precariously stacked the empty dishes into a pile, but when he moved to stand up two familiar hands came down on his shoulders to keep him in place.

"Sit" Haru ordered simply as he pushed him back down on his cushion.

"Haru," Makoto whined as he watched him clear the table "at least let me help tidy up. You've done all this cooking, and after your training too..."

"It's fine," Haru shrugged "I enjoy it." And his expression softened as he wiped the tabletop clean, "Makoto's been working hard too. And besides," an indulgent glint shone in his eyes as he retrieved the last of the condiments, adding one of Makoto's top five favourite phases as he made his way back to the kitchen, "I made dessert..."

Moments later as promised he returned with the final course, one in each hand and a pair of long spoons caught between his fingers. He'd made parfait in the stubby little glasses that he usually drank his water from, and although it wasn't in the traditional fluted sundae shape he'd still somehow managed to make it look elegant. He set one down in front of Makoto and smiled knowingly as he handed him the spoon, watching his boyfriend's eyes light up at the swirls of chocolate mousse and whipped cream, artfully finished off with a dusting of cocoa and two pocky sticks sprouting out from the top. Makoto seemed to visibly regress at least ten years when presented with sweets, and even more so when they were made by a certain blue-eyed someone. Haru took up position closer to Makoto this time, taking the seat at a right angle so their knees brushed under the table as he began picking at his own desert. He didn't have a particularly sweet tooth, unlike Makoto who fittingly seemed to share the trait with the rest of his equally addicted family, so instead of using chocolate he'd stirred matcha into his smaller portion, resulting in a cleaner taste and delicate shade of green. Makoto paused with the spoon in his mouth as he watched Haru from the corner of his eye, he could tell Haru was only eating it because he knew Makoto loved sweets, that he didn't like to be the only one eating and didn't want him to go to so much trouble just for him. Again, Sneaky.

"Mmm it's good Haru-chan!" He enthused around the spoon on his tongue when he realised he'd been caught staring for the umpteenth time, and he stifled a chuckle when Haru rolled his eyes. "You should try some..." he cheerfully diverted, and scooped up a large spoonful of the decadent pudding before presenting it to his amiably sceptic boyfriend. Haru took a moment to consider, his appraising eyes drifting between the spoon and his lover's expectant face, but unfortunately that pause would prove to be his downfall, as it was just enough time for the sugar-addled child in Makoto to put forward an impulsively witty plan of action. Because just as Haru opened his lips to taste the dessert Makoto intentionally flicked his wrist upwards, depositing an absurd amount of whipped cream on the end of his unsuspecting nose.

"Ma-" Haru flinched backwards, and the expression of shocked disapproval combined with the ridiculously incongruous blob of cream was so adorable that it ripped a spluttering giggle from Makoto's upturned lips. "I can't believe you just... How old are you Tachibana?" Haru deadpanned as he sat comically still.

"Not as old as you, Nanase-kun" Makoto retorted with an infuriatingly cheeky tone of voice. And at that Haru evidently snapped, calmly taking his own parfait-laden spoon and slowly smearing it down Makoto's jovial face, leaving a pale green streak from just below his eye to the corner of his mouth. They stared at each other for a long minute of incredulous silence, a hint of challenge lingering dangerously in the air.

"Pfft!" The pair crumbled in unison, and Makoto laughed again when Haru's vision lost its focus as he tried to inspect his own nose.

"Huh. Matcha brings out your eyes." Haru quipped as he finally made a move to wipe his face, but before he could fully extend his hand Makoto batted it away, instead grasping at the neckline of his apron and gently pulling him forward to straddle his lap. Haru instinctively slipped his arms around Makoto's shoulders, sparkling green eyes gazing up in satisfied triumph from beneath him.

"Delicious" Makoto drawled as he craned his neck and proceeded to lick Haru's face clean, eventually diverting his attention to his parted lips when the vast majority of the cream was gone. The kiss was deep and exquisitely slow, the memory of the previous two weeks without his boyfriend casting a bittersweet ache in his chest and mirroring the subtle taste of cocoa on his tongue. But when they reluctantly pulled apart for air, the look of mild amusement coupled with the small dab of green on Haru's face reminded him of the state of his own appearance, and willing to push his luck Makoto gave him the patented puppy dog eyes whilst pointing imploringly at his own cheek.

"Tch" Haru clicked with mock annoyance, but nonetheless tilted his weight forward into Makoto's solid frame and languidly stroked his tongue upwards along the stripe of parfait on his skin. The drawn out action seemed distinctly feline as Haru continued to clean him compliantly, and Makoto couldn't help but let out a strained hiss as his hands began to wander and a certain tightness formed in his jeans.

When Haru was done he shifted back just enough to admire his handywork, and the phrase 'cat who got the cream' flashed helpfully somewhere in the recesses of Makoto's brain. He witnessed Haru's entrancing pupils dilate as they retained their steady eye contact, and could feel his chest heaving ever so slightly as he attempted to catch his breath. Makoto sensed a fire begin to smoulder and spread low down in his core, but although it was just so incredibly tempting to pounce on his delectable boyfriend right there and then, he made a conscious decision to take things slow, to savour every whimper and caress like his sanity depended on it.

"Oh, you didn't get to try the chocolate," he pointed out facetiously, and reached for the table at his side, collecting a generous helping of the pudding on his finger to bring it up to Haru's lips. "Open" he murmured into the scant space between them. Haru obliged, opening his mouth and accepting the digit onto his tongue, fiery sparks igniting Makoto's bloodstream as his index finger was suddenly enveloped in soft wet heat and Haru began to suck, his dark blue eyes slowly fluttering closed. Makoto looked on in pure admiration as he took in the sight of Haru's slightly furrowed brow, listened to the quiet little moans that escaped his throat, his increasingly heavy breathing as he exhaled through his nose. He could tell that Haru was slowly driving him mad on purpose, and indeed he didn't miss the piece of unmistakably damning evidence as Haru smirked around his finger when he intentionally shifted his hips to grind down on his erection, drawing out a deep groan in the process.

Makoto knew that if he were to retain any of his previous convictions he was going to have to turn the tables, and as Haru's tongue began to swirl enticingly around the pad of his finger, it caused a throb in his groin that literally forced his hand. He retracted his finger with pop and took a moment to appreciate Haru's flushed cheeks, his slightly swollen lips and hazily blown eyes. And then he decided on his revenge. Leaning forward he reached past Haru, causing the smaller of the two to tilt along with him as their centre of gravity shifted. Their lips barely brushed together in an almost-kiss, but just before they connected Makoto picked up the glass that he'd been stretching for and casually straightened into his previous sitting position, leaving Haru hanging and adorably cross. Makoto couldn't help but chuckle.

"Now come on Haru-chan, it's only fair that I should get to try yours as well" and he brandished said half-eaten desert maybe a little too enthusiastically. He repeated his earlier action of loading up his finger, but instead of offering it to Haru's lips he brushed a smooth line of the delicate parfait across his collarbone, smiling in satisfaction at the way his boyfriend's breath hitched unwillingly. It may well have brought out the colour of his own eyes, but he silently decided that the pale green pigment complimented Haru's milky complexion just perfectly.

Makoto firmly held Haru still by the waist as he ducked his head, lapping at his skin and tasting him slowly, humming in appreciation as Haru stretched to bare his neck and gasped at the trail of kisses and sucks as Makoto conquered the newly exposed flesh. Finally their lips reconnected and the pace inevitably quickened as Makoto slipped his tongue inside, Haru reciprocating as he pressed his body in close, his arousal making itself known against Makoto's muscular stomach. Soon enough the circling motion of their hips began to move as one, needy moans and gasps filling the heated air at the deliciously synchronised friction. Haru clung to Makoto as their slowly increasing rise and fall continued, the taller of the two burying his face in his boyfriend's neck as he bucked up into him, his broad hands finding their way to his perfectly rounded ass.

"Makoto," Haru rasped, his fingers clawing at his shirt in an attempt to attract his attention, "Makoto, I can't wait anymore..." His urgent tone and blunt honesty a telling sign of just how far gone he'd become. Makoto growled and without warning lifted Haru up, easily manoeuvring him round so he was bent forward over the low chabudai table, covering him over with his own larger body in one smooth determined motion. It couldn't be helped if Haru insisted on using that enticingly needy tone of voice, or at least that was his frustrated reasoning as he finally began to let go, all hopes of taking it slowly immediately evaporating as Haru shuddered beneath him.

"You're driving me crazy" he murmured into his ear before giving it a playful nip, and he pressed his erection against Haru's backside as if to prove his statement true. Haru in turn used his forearms on the tabletop as leverage in leaning back into his embrace, eliciting a mutual groan as the ensuing heat began to singe where their bodies met. Makoto ran his hands greedily along the slim sides of Haru's slightly arched torso, but as he slid them round to feel those beautifully stretched stomach muscles he quickly discovered a rather irritating barrier in the form of the apron he was still wearing, and he resolved to dispose of the unnecessary hindrance immediately. He straightened to kneel up between Haru's parted legs, making sure to keep a gentle pressure against the backs of his thighs and rear, and was suddenly forced to implement all of his remaining brain cells that weren't already completely fried with lust in order to unpick the disarmingly pretty bow that was tied at the small of his back. It was like some inauspicious puzzle sent to test his merit, but finally - and with no small amount of pride - he managed to undo the knot, the cords of the apron falling away like the ribbons from a much anticipated gift as it was gratefully received. Makoto nodded a small congratulation to himself, but instantly regretted it as he felt a pair of impatient blue eyes scanning him curiously, Haru having craned his neck to look over his shoulder in a mixture of irritation and amusement.

"What are you doing?" Haru enquired blandly, unable to hide the curl to his lip or the agitated glint in his eye.

"I was just -" Makoto started to explain, but decided it was much more efficient to simply show him and he boldly threw the troublesome garment somewhere in the general direction of the kitchen, before ducking back down to leave a soothing trail of kisses between his appetising shoulder blades. Haru sighed appreciatively as soft lips and warm breath ghosted across his back like a gentle sirocco breeze, shivering reflexively as broad hands came back to their rightful place on his ass. "Ah, wait there a second," Makoto urged in frustration, and without any form of valid explanation withdrew completely, leaving Haru bristling and a little shellshocked as he listened to his thoroughly illogical footsteps as he proceed to stomp out of the room entirely.

"Where are you going-" Haru called after him, all levity having drained from his voice to leave only weary exasperation.

"Stay there!" Makoto immediately responded, producing an authoritative tone from nowhere, which proved surprisingly effective, because when he returned from the bedroom he was greeted with the breathtaking sight of Haru still leaning prone against the table, propped up on his elbows with his back arched and his head hanging low. If at that time Makoto had any reserves of self control, he would surely have used them to stop and appreciate that devastatingly provocative scene, to savour the image of Haru waiting for him, the smooth pitch of his exposed spine and the prominent erection tenting in his pants as he trembled with anticipation. But as it stood his reserves were running dangerously low, so instead he crossed the room with impressive speed, pulling his shirt and tshirt over his head and pushing down his jeans to kick them off as he went.

By the time he had reclaimed his position over Haru a split second later he had already succeeded in removing his boxers, and the delightful tingle of skin-to-skin contact caused his already painfully hard cock to jolt with anticipation. He was pleasantly surprised therefore to find Haru without underwear as he slipped the track pants of dubious ownership down past his thighs, pulling them completely off and discarding them onto the pile for good measure. After what now seemed like an eternity they were both finally naked, and Makoto felt as if he was stumbling over hot coals as his body raced to keep up with the rapid barrage of thoughts and sensations blazing like wildfire trough his synapses.

His hands were noticeably shaking with adrenaline as he dispensed the generous helping of lube that he'd so unceremoniously scrambled to retrieve from the other room, but his instinct began to take over as he finally circled a slick digit around Haru's waiting entrance, his boyfriend squirmed gorgeously under him as he pressed forward, Haru letting out a low satisfied hum as it slipped inside.

"Mngh, Haru... You're so tight" he lilted with awe, a trickle of pre cum leaking from his cock at the mere notion of being inside his lover's firm heat for the first time in two long weeks. He watched half lidded whilst his finger was taken in above the knuckle, and he swallowed dryly as he began languidly pumping in and out. But as a direct result of Makoto's all too leisurely pace Haru restlessly slammed his frame backwards, impaling himself with a sharp breathy cry, a wordless prompt for Makoto to get on with it, because really he had waited long enough. Under any other circumstances Makoto might've laughed at Haru's obvious show of impatience, but as it happened he found himself fully concurring when Haru's needy moans went straight down to his aching cock. He slipped another finger alongside the first and gently scissored apart when he felt Haru begin to relax around them until they were taken in right up to his palm, his other hand idly running over his hips and lower back in silent encouragement.

"Mak-koto..." Haru stammered, shivering around the words as his boyfriend crooked his fingers deep inside him, "h-hurry up" and he threw an imploring glance over his shoulder, which accidentally coincided with an embarrassingly loud moan that sent additional heat to his cheekbones when Makoto stilled completely. Haru's dignity aside, it seemed to do the trick, Makoto's eyes darkening a shade further as he immediately retrieved his fingers in order to line himself up and quickly begin to press forward, holding his breath as he watched the tip start to disappear inside.

It was somehow even tighter than he remembered, the enveloping heat sending prickles radiating out across his skin as he buried himself deeper inch by inch. By the time he was fully seated inside Haru, his thighs wonderfully cushioned against that perfectly toned ass, they were both shaking desperately as they pushed heavily into one another, Makoto straining to remain stationary and Haru finding his limbs an inadequate support against the intensity of being filled. Makoto's stomach was pressed flat along Haru's quivering back, a gratifying position that meant he could bolster Haru's trembling arms as they intertwined their fingers on the varnished tabletop, whilst simultaneously taking advantage of his temptingly bared neck, sucking possessively at the pale patch of skin and leaving an inappropriately placed dark bruise.

The second Haru began to push backwards, it seemed to break the dam of Makoto's restraint and his hips began to roll of their own volition, sliding his length halfway out before canting forward to drive right back in. At each lazy return thrust Haru let out a chain of beautifully pitched moans, and Makoto's brow furrowed as he bit his bottom lip through a series of low rumbling growls.

"O-okaeri" Haru choked out as Makoto's cock filled him up completely, and Makoto spasmed uncontrollably as arousal and adoration ripped through his body in equal measure.

"That should be my line," he murmured hoarsely into Haru's ear, snapping his hips forward and shunting his lover unexpectedly hard against the table, ripping a vocal gasp from his pretty little mouth in the process. "Tadaima" he groaned hot against his neck, putting in extra effort to the accompanying thrust, skilfully finding Haru's sweet spot and proceeding to pound into him again and again with an unrelenting rhythm. "God Haru you feel amazing... Ahn... I missed you so much..." And with that he retrieved his hand from where he grasped Haru's fingers and slid it down his rippling stomach to take hold of his neglected length.

"Sh-it, Makoto!" Haru bucked into his hand as it began to stoke him in time, and a string of jumbled sounds that eventually reformed into a barely recognisable mantra of his boyfriend's name tumbled out of Haru's rasping throat and mingled with the sounds of heavy breathing and the slapping of skin. "I'm-" his voice suddenly cracked in warning, but seconds later he was spilling hot cum into Makoto's hand and across the table, his body shuddering violently as his orgasm rattled through his nervous system.

Makoto felt Haru's walls clamp down on his cock before he heard his climactic shout, but the combination of the two forced his eyes to screw shut as he took his intensive final thrusts, the convulsions of Haru's aftershock eventually tipping the balance into perfect delirium, flooding his blissful release deep inside his lover and rocking into his already spent frame as they sprawled twitching against the pleasingly cool surface beneath them.

Makoto was distantly aware that he was probably squashing Haru as he remained draped over his back in a heap, but Haru didn't seem to really mind amidst his sticky euphoria where he lay catching his breath beneath him. Regardless, Makoto planted a tired kiss on his jawline, the only part he could reach without actually moving.

"Maybe I should go away more often." Haru spoke drowsily against the table. And Makoto attempted to shake his head.

"Maybe just make more parfait..."

 

 

 


End file.
